


Better Than I Know Myself

by Syrum



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: First Kiss, Good job Steve knows what he's about, HolidayStoking, Kissing, Loki is a bit dense at times, M/M, holidaystoking2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5794393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I don’t need to win your favour, Loki; I already have it.”  The words came, unbidden, and somehow he knew them to be true.  There was a softness to Loki now, one that had never been present before, something bordering on kindness that might become so much more if allowed to grow.  It was small, fleeting, so delicate that it might shatter in an instant.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Excuse me?”  Loki appeared to be almost aghast, and for a moment Steve wondered if perhaps he had crossed a line.  Yet, when the trickster god merely stared at him, Steve could not help the boyish grin that split his features.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Just think about it.”</i></p><p> </p><p>My HolidayStoking entry for Rexluscus!</p><p>Loki has never been particularly good at reading or accepting what he is feeling; it is far easier to focus on what everyone <i>else</i> is doing after all.  Sometimes, it takes a hard-headed Captain to get him to see sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than I Know Myself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rexluscus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexluscus/gifts).



“Hold still.” Steve pressed the bloodied rag further up the long gash, trying to staunch the bleeding. He earned a glare for his too-sharp command, and a hiss of pain for the added pressure against the cut, but Loki did as he was asked and stopped fidgeting, for the moment at least.

“You need not _mother_ me, Captain, I am fine.” Loki shot back, looking something between amused and perturbed, clearly unused to another taking the time to feel anything resembling concern for his wellbeing. Steve actively chose not to ponder on that; he didn’t have all the facts, had no idea what Loki’s life had been like prior to the madness of the Chitauri attack, and he wasn’t about to apply his own theorised concerns to a man he still knew precious little about.

“Well you clearly have a very different definition of ‘fine’ to the one I grew up with, because last time I checked bleeding from the neck was the exact _opposite_ of ‘fine’.” He kept his tone curt, professional to the last, and yet Steve could feel the irritation rising in his chest, unbidden. He kept it in check, though, biting his tongue before the chastisement could spill from his lips.

“By your standards, perhaps, but I am not so weak as you mortals, I will not die from this.” He wasn’t wrong, of course. Loki was Asgardian, was no weaker than Thor himself despite their difference in stature, yet there was something undeniably different about the other man, Steve thought. Something ethereal, as though he might be something else entirely.

“Maybe, maybe not, but I don’t intend to take any chances.” The tight-lipped smile felt out of place somehow, as though it was warping his face into something strange, and Steve let it drop almost as quickly as it had appeared.

“Why?” The word was so quiet, Steve barely caught it, even with his enhanced hearing. He paused for a moment, hand hovering over the slowing trickle of blood that had been a gushing torrent only minutes before. There was a tingle beneath his fingers, and though he knew it was likely his imagination, it almost felt as though warmth were seeping up his arm.

“Sorry?” Steve was staring at his hand, and though it did not look any different, it certainly felt it. The warmth reached his chest, flowing through him, and it was almost like being enveloped within a firm hug. He was, for a moment, reminded of his mother, and though he missed her terribly still, the usual pang of loss that resurfaced whenever he thought of her did not materialise, apparently soothed by whatever magic was seeping from the man before him.

Because it _had_ to be magic. What _else_ would feel like that?

“Why try to aid me? I am your enemy, Captain, do you hope that by attempting to save my life, you might win my favour?” Steve merely snorted at that, lamenting the loss as the gentle heat began to retreat once more, Loki’s brow raising in a delicate arch of question. “You find the thought amusing?”

“I don’t need to win your favour, Loki; I already have it.” The words came, unbidden, and somehow he knew them to be true. There was a softness to Loki now, one that had never been present before, something bordering on kindness that might become so much more if allowed to grow. It was small, fleeting, so delicate that it might shatter in an instant.

“Excuse me?” Loki appeared to be almost aghast, and for a moment Steve wondered if perhaps he had crossed a line. Yet, when the trickster god merely stared at him, Steve could not help the boyish grin that split his features.

“Just think about it.”

* * *

“I have considered your words, Captain, and have come to the conclusion that you are wrong.” Loki crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at the mop of blonde hair beneath him, taking in the long lines of Steve’s neck and the strong set of his back, muscles rippling through a too-tight tee as he re-tied the lace that had caused him to stop.

“Am I?” Infuriating little man, Loki thought, huffing as Steve refused to look up at him, showing no indication of surprise at his sudden and unexpected arrival in the park. If the Captain wondered how Loki had found him, he did not question it.

“You assume that I desire you, based presumably upon my behaviour towards you these last months. I am here to inform you that I do not.” And he didn’t, _really_ he didn’t. Captain Steve Rogers was the perfect specimen of a man, broad at the shoulders and narrow at the waist, only an inch or so shorter than Loki himself, and with legs that could quite easily crush a man.

And, as he stood from his crouched position to finally stare up at Loki, sweat soaking his shirt to near-transparency against his skin, a _very_ nice chest.

“Is _that_ what I think?” There was too much confidence there, too much certainty, and if Loki did not know any better he might think that Steve was _toying_ with him. Not that the Captain would do such a thing.

“You deny it to be true?”

“You tell me.” With a smirk that Loki himself might have been proud of, Steve resumed his run, holding Loki’s gaze as he passed. _Frustrating_ mortal, he thought, watching him go.

* * *

“It _is_ untrue.” Steve struggled to keep his laughter under control, hiding his grin by turning to stare across the street, paying Loki as little attention as possible for no reason other than to hide his amusement. And if he was getting a certain amount of satisfaction out of being able to rile up the Asgardian prince without so much as trying, well, who could blame him?

“So you keep saying.” He turned, then, grin shifting into a smirk as he took in the trickster god’s growing irritation and defensive stance, arms over his chest once more.

“And I will continue to say so until it penetrates your primitive skull.” Loki huffed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he watched the Captain pick out colourful packets of breakfast cereal.

“Have you ever come across a play called Hamlet?” Steve asked, dropping a packet of Lucky Charms into his basket for Clint and moving over to grab a packet of Pop Tarts for Thor.

“No, I have not, and I do not see what bearing it has upon our present conversation.”

“I think you might like it.” Steve hummed, the source of his amusement entirely lost on Loki. Then, as an afterthought, “Act three, scene two.”

* * *

“Ridiculous mortal.” 

“I wondered when you might show up again.” Steve paused from the repetition of up-down-up-down, arms just barely starting to show any sign of strain as he made a mental note of how many push ups he had already managed that morning.

“You cannot even translate the writings of your own bards correctly.” A thick, leather-bound book landed on the coffee table with a heavy thud, catching Steve’s attention. In a thick gold scrawl, ‘Hamlet’ was displayed across the cover, and when he began to flick through the tome he found that Loki had neatly commented throughout in a near-perfect hand. By the time he looked up again, the trickster god was gone.

* * *

“Would you care for coffee?” Despite his rather sudden appearance, Loki had, in fact, been hovering around Steve’s apartment for the better part of an hour and a half before the Captain had decided to grace him with his presence. He had then remained hidden for a _further_ half hour, because to appear as soon as Steve returned home might be seen as overeager to the clearly delusional Captain.

“Are you asking me out?” Steve was grinning at him, and it was all Loki could do not to roll his eyes at the man. He was already reading too much into the simple request, that much was certain, though it was too late to rescind his invite now.

“I am asking you for coffee, take from that what you will.” Loki shrugged, entirely prepared to leave without the Captain in tow, even as a part of him protested at the possibility.

“Coffee sounds nice, let me get my coat.”

“You shall not need it.” As Steve had moved to stand from his position on the couch, Loki had taken hold of his arm, a hard enough grip that it would be difficult for the Captain to wrench himself free, yet not enough to bruise. It took very little focus on his part to pull them through the gap in space he had created, emerging on a brightly lit sidewalk under the dappled shade of a scattering of well-tended trees.

“What...Loki, where _are_ we?” Steve stared around himself in awe, breathing in the unfamiliar smells and watching as unfamiliar faces passed them by without so much as a second glance. A soft wind blew past them, ruffling previously tamed blonde hair, and Loki allowed himself a moment to simply look and appreciate.

“Italy.” He replied, as though it was the simplest and most obvious thing, almost nothing at all to one such as Loki. “I cannot abide American coffee.”

* * *

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, you’re back? I thought you’d lost interest.” He hadn’t, of course; the Captain was endlessly interesting, and yet there was no requirement for the man to know that. In fact, the knowledge would likely make him even more insufferable than he already was.

“For that I should have to have had some form of interest to lose.” Loki paused for a moment, perching upon the arm of the couch and watching as Steve’s pencil scratched at the paper. “I was otherwise indisposed.” He finally added with a low huff that brought the twitch of a smile to Steve’s lips.

“You seem tense.” Steve looked up, finally, blue eyes showing a measure of concern that went beyond what Loki might have expected. It sent the tiniest of shivers down his spine, caught in the warmth of that gaze. He filed his own reaction away for further contemplation at a later date.

“The business that required my attention was...unpleasant.” He was surprisingly pleased when Steve simply nodded and turned his attention back to the ream of paper in his lap, not probing further. Loki would have divulged a little more information, if asked, yet he was happy that he hadn’t had to. “You still have not told me what it is that you are doing.”

“Drawing.” 

“I can see that, I do have eyes.” As though to make a point, though Steve could not see it, Loki rolled said eyes in an exaggerated gesture. “ _What_ are you drawing?”

“You.” Well, he most certainly had not been expecting that. Loki sat for a moment and watched, not able to see the picture from his present position, something warm and indescribable rising in his chest.

“Oh.”

* * *

“You allowed yourself to be harmed.” Clutching at his broken arm, leaning back against a half-destroyed building, Steve let his attention shift to the towering figure above him. Loki glared down at him, green eyes glinting with something unreadable in the shadow of the alleyway. As he watched, Loki moved to a crouch, running a delicate finger across the gash on his cheek.

“It happens sometimes in my line of work. You almost sound worried.” Wherever Loki touched felt warm, and Steve could not help but lean into the contact, eyelids fluttering shut as he let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he had still been holding. Since the start of the battle, in fact.

“I am merely concerned for the wellfare of my present amusement.” Steve might have scoffed, but he was too tired and too sore, and though he might not say it, too grateful for the Asgardian’s presence at his side. Loki did not seem to be joking though, working to heal the worst of Steve’s injuries without having been asked, leaving the smaller ones to repair themselves.

“Of course you are.” Lips quirking upwards into what might have been a genuine smile if he wasn’t so _tired_ , Steve forced his eyes open to watch Loki work, fascinated, if a little disturbed, by the way his skin started to knit back together with what seemed like very little effort from the trickster god.

“You know, Captain, you really are quite infuriating at times.” Loki glanced up then, catching Steve’s gaze and holding it, and Steve really hoped the man hadn’t noticed the way his breath had caught in his throat at the intensity of that look.

“So I’ve been told.”

* * *

“I find myself at something of a loss, Captain.” Something was different, _off_ somehow, and Steve paused from the menial task of measuring out sugar for a cake that likely wouldn’t rise anyway.

“Oh? That isn’t like you, what’s up?” Turning with a frown, he wiped his hands on a tea towel before tossing it aside, moving over to the breakfast bar that Loki had taken up residence beside.

“I require your assistance, if I may. To test a theory.” Loki seemed perhaps a little nervous somehow, yet with the same surety to both his words and actions that he always seemed to carry. Still, Steve could not shake the feeling that something had changed, and he wasn’t certain if he should be concerned or not.

“Of course, what do you need?” He barely had time to breathe before Loki leaned in, firm lips brushing over Steve’s own chapped ones, green eyes closed to let dark lashes dust over high cheekbones. The kiss was soft, almost hesitant, and not at all what Steve might have expected. It left his lips tingling right down to his toes and his mind buzzing as he tried to formulate a verbal response once Loki pulled away. “Oh.” He finally managed, cheeks flushed and heart pounding.

“It appears that my theory was correct.” Loki was, it seemed, no less affected by the intimate contact than Steve had been, and he could feel the way his heart rate rose to match that of the Captain.

“And what theory was that?” Steve asked, still perilously close to the Asgardian, hands having found their way to Loki’s hips to hold him in place. There was a husk to his voice that Loki found he really rather liked, and a streak of desire behind his gaze that made him want to drive the man to the brink of insanity and back again.

Loki could have mentioned that Steve had been correct. That Loki’s own need, his wants for the Captain had been clear as day, and he had merely been ignoring them, or had not bothered to notice. Instead, he smirked, wearing the same damnable expression that the Captain had sported each time they had met since the first, leaning in to kiss him again.


End file.
